


Changing the Narrative

by daisherz365



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 22:04:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14246703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisherz365/pseuds/daisherz365
Summary: When Sherlock gets hospitalized a very tired Molly Hooper visits to calm any concerned friends. It gives the detective much to dwell on. (Sherlolly)





	Changing the Narrative

**Author's Note:**

> For **damselindeduction** on Tumblr. Thank you so much for the support. Here's your dose of Sherlolly as requested. ❤

This was a scene in itself. A small brunette in a lab coat exiting an elevator looking both frantic and tired. Truth be told she was mostly wanting to be at home and asleep for twelve hours, maybe more. 

 

However, after a sixteen hour day she had finally noticed that she had been contacted several times by friends. Trying to see if she knew anything about Sherlock Holmes' condition after having to be admitted for surgery. 

 

It wasn't life or death. Which she found only slightly amusing considering the man always seemed to be in those type of situations. Bringing the rest of them along for the ride. Molly had taken a backseat for a few weeks. Not needing that headache although he actively texts her to ask her how she's feeling. 

 

Normal things that make her feel almost disconnected after Sherrinford. They weren't really anywhere on that front. She didn't know where to go, and he wasn't rushing her. 

 

She turned a corner and nearly bumped into an older couple who immediately made a joke about being too slow. “It was my fault. I'm running on fumes.” She apologizes, wiping a hand down her face before returning her hand to the pocket of her coat. 

 

“Are you trying to find someone?” The man of the duo asks, he has a very strong profile but also gentle in that same respect that older people are. 

 

“Um. I suppose so. He's a friend. We work together sometimes. I don't always keep my phone on me and I just found out he was here.”

 

Molly spins around trying to find a sign that could tell her the room number. No one had known. She figured it wouldn't be too hard to find. He wasn't in critical condition so that subtracted from where she had to search. 

 

She hears mumbling coming from her side. The elderly couple are conversing about something but Molly is distracted. 

 

“Miss, you wouldn't happen to be looking for our William would you?”

 

It takes longer because her brain is working at half speed at this hour, it's leaning closer to 4AM, to realize that she isn't totally sure how to answer that question. 

 

The older man laughs. “Sweetheart, it's Sherlock. He doesn't use William professionally or ever remember?”

 

The woman smacks her husband lightly. “I know. Just wanted to catch her off guard in case she knew him as William, too.”

 

Molly is aware that this situation is rather interesting. Now that she's focusing she can see the resemblance and it almost makes her stumble. “Yes. My friend is Sherlock.” She says finally to break the awkward silence that is hanging. 

 

She's also unsure if she shouldn't just run on home without seeing Sherlock. It feels weird to do this with his parents. Partially because she doubted he wanted her to meet them, not like this or ever. Depends on the day.

 

“He'll be glad to have visitors. It's just been family today.” 

 

The older man ushers her down the hall a few more rooms further and then the door is opening and there he is in a bed appearing to be asleep.

 

Molly rocks on her feet, as she stays a few feet to the right of the Holmes’ as they sit on the chairs available.

 

“What's your name, dear?” Calls his mother who is pulling out a book that looks too big to be anything but academic. 

 

Molly feels so out of place but offers her name. Leaves out the part where she says she works in the morgue. She doesn't know what they know about her. 

 

“Oh!” His dad sounds happy as he turns to her. “You helped out Sherlock with the whole Moriarty thing.”

 

They did know. About that at least. 

 

Molly smiles, sheepishly. Then nods. She isn't sure what she could add to that. Truth is she's helped him with more than that. She decides to change the tide of conversation and moves a few paces closer to Sherlock’s side. 

 

“So, what happened to him?”

 

“Appendicitis. Of all things.” He sounds tired but blinks one eye open to look at his parents then at Molly. “I think I’d rather be shot at.”

 

Molly rolls her eyes. “Of course  _ you _ would.” She moves closer so he won't have to do much moving around. 

 

He shuts his eye for a moment, six beats later he looks more lively. “Long day?” He quips. 

 

She nods. “Just came to check on you before I went into a coma. Your friends were worried.”

 

He giving her a strange look that she doesn't have energy to dissect. 

 

He doesn't respond and it makes her feel ten times more exhausted. 

 

Then he does. “I'm glad you stopped by, Molly.” 

 

It's here that she's not only aware that she had reached a hand out to be near him - to touch him physically- it poised on the railing of his bed that hadn't been moved down,  but at how easy it is for him to grasp it. 

 

It sends a shock through her that makes her exit easier. 

 

“Get some rest, Sherlock.” Then she turns around and bows to his parents shortly. 

 

She expressed how nice it was to meet them and then she leaves. Her heart feels like it's about to beat out her chest from one touch. 

 

Sherlock sighs at her exit. His parents immediately noticing his lack of energy now that the doctor is gone. 

 

“That was interesting.” His mother quips.   

In response he just rolls over, wincing. “Don't pry. It's complicated.”

 

“Isn't that what you do best?”

 

He mumbles something that just makes his mom laugh. “Then change the narrative. You obviously care about her. I saw her face.”

 

He did too and she looked like she didn't want him to touch her. 

 

He tried to erase the thought from his mind. 

 

His mother's words echoing. 

 

_ Change the narrative.  _

 

He was wrong. “What did you see in her face?” He asked them. 

 

“Nervousness. Conflict. Love.” His dad stated.

 

Sherlock didn't say anything for awhile. He wanted to think. He had to. 

 

In part he was annoyed that it took him getting a very human diagnosis for them to share the same space in a slightly amicable light. She had come to get Rosie before but they didn't share many words then. Just about her goddaughter, nothing else. There wasn't a lot he could try to say. Not that she would want to hear. He had apologized and she heard him but it takes more than one apology for something this important. It was going to take an action. 

 

Something bold. Romantic even. 

 

He mulled on it for about another day in between visits from his brother, John bringing Rosie to see Sherlock because she was seeming unsettled even at her young age. He was familiar to her a dynamic that was strange even to the detective. 

 

He adored the daughter of two of his most cherished friends. She reminded him of Mary the most and it was a heavy reminder of the reason some things had to change. Not only for Rosie, but for her silly Godfather who was trying to be better. 

 

Sherlock's father returned without his mother to retrieve him when he got discharged. He still had to heal so he couldn't work for a little while. 

 

“Did you figure it out?” His dad asked as they walked out into the cool air of London and took the car waiting. 

 

Sherlock rattled off an address that wasn't his own as an answer. 

 

“I suppose.”

 

His dad laughed. Sherlock shot him an incredulous look as if saying, what is so funny?

 

“You're my son. Of course you've worked it out. I'm not as smart as your mum but I'm a good observer. You got that glow in your eyes again. I missed it.”

 

His dad had always been quiet. He didn't often say what was on his mind. He let his wife talk most of the time but Sherlock had learned the most from him and he was still learning. 

 

“You missed me being reckless?” He snorted. 

 

“If that's what it takes. Just don't hurt yourself doing it for Molly. I'm sure she's worried.”

 

“She's tired.” He argues before the car comes to a stop. The car keeps running as he slowly gets out and moves towards the door. He doesn't have his key so he presses the doorbell. 

 

It takes longer for her to come open the door but when she does he doesn't think twice about it. He leans down and catches her lips against his. 

 

They stumble a bit. 

 

Molly is caught off guard. She pulls back a little to try to get some form of rational thought out of him. “Sherlock. What are you doing here?”

 

She has her arms trying to hold him up. He's still recovering, she knows that. “Being reckless. I wanted to do that for some time.”

 

Molly using one of her hands to push the glasses up on her nose. “I see.”

 

“Haven't seen you in those since I met you.” He grins. 

 

Molly rolls her eyes, but returns her gaze to him. “Need a new pair of contacts and I'm in my own home.” She pauses. “You should be at home resting.”

 

“I had to make a pit stop.”

 

This makes her laugh. “Kissing me was a pit stop?”

 

“One long overdue. Sorry I can't stay. Need rest, doctor's orders.”

 

She pushes him so he's not leaning over her like before. “Yes. I'll check on you tomorrow.”

 

“Promise?” He's fishing but he wants something more out of this. He hadn't done a lot of planning here. 

 

Perhaps she was giving him the benefit of the doubt. Romantic gestures did move people to be stupid. It's not a word he would ever use for Molly but for him certainly. He's foolish when it counts. 

 

She stands on her toes to peck his cheek. “Promise.” She whispers quietly against his skin. 

 

He doesn't promise anything more. He doesn't know what good it would do but he thinks this is enough.

 

Until tomorrow. 

 

“I like the glasses.” He tells her in parting before he's taking the few steps back out into the London air. 

 

Molly appreciates the change. She thinks about the brashness over low mein and sweet wine. 

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
